Not really sure I like this one, but the same thing that posessed me to write it posessed me to post it! Takes place after season 3 Cold Reveal. I know technicly Peyton would have been in the picture, and I have nothing against the woman personally, she seemed very nice...but I love Stella and Mac too much. So without further ado...btw please review!

Stella's knuckles were now sore and blotchy red from rapping on Mac's apartment door repeatedly. She heaved a sigh, but knew her mind wouldn't rest until she was certain he was alright. The aftermath of Clay Dobson's jump had thrust Mac into a web of messy politics and a maze of revelations as to his own ethics.

She dug out the apartment key he had entrusted her with and jiggled the door open. Immediately being greeted with the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, she turned her attention to making tea, knowing he would be offended if she didn't make herself at home. She knew his kitchen as well as her own and felt her lips turn upward slightly at the military inflicted OCD that caused Mac to strategically arrange the tea and coffee cabinet in order of preference and popularity, her favorite Earl Grey next to his favorite Green Mountain Blend. Stella leaned her hip into the counter while slowly stirring in sugar; the sound of the metal spoon scraping against the porcelain mug mixed with the moist heat rising from the drink calmed her senses. But a loud thud and crack ringing out through the living room and into the kitchen had her racing for the bathroom.

She pounded on the door with a balled fist, ignoring the pain that shot through her petite hand when it crashed into contact with the unyielding wooden door.

"Mac?!" Panic began to set in when she heard no answer. Stella found herself twisting the handle and pushing the door wide before her mind caught up to her actions.

Mac stood underneath the frigid spray of the shower; he hadn't bothered to turn on the hot water when he stumbled in, barely being able to rid himself of his clothes fast enough. How much time had elapsed his frayed mind couldn't recall, all he could remember was the drowning anger that he swallowed back. It burned like acid in his throat and tears stung his eyes, threatening to fall. He now stared at his bloodied fist, moving his tormented eyes from the hole in the plaster and tile of the shower wall, back to his hand. The pain helped to steady him, and moments later he was able to comprehend pounding at the door. He heard Stella call his name with concern etched deep into her voice. But he didn't answer. He didn't want to be Mac Taylor today; he didn't want to be the marine, the widower, the only witness to Clay Dobson's suicide jump, and most of all he didn't want to be the man blamed for a father never being able to bury his daughter. "Only he knows. Only he knows where he buried her. And because of you I'll never get her back, I'll never get my Lilly back, my baby girl." The words spoken by a man who held a gun to Mac, in a crowded street. The words that would stay with him now, seared into his memory, like the sight of those buildings collapsing with his wife still inside, like the memory of holding a young marine in his arms as shrapnel tore through him.

In a moment Stella was before him, wrapping his bloodied fist in a hand towel. She said nothing to him, knowing that wherever he was right now, words couldn't possibly help. She stared at him for a moment, and somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that he was completely naked, but the fog that had taken his brain captive, the one that was attempting to shield him from the agony he would not be able to prevent if left with his own thoughts, also prevented him from telling her to get out. He couldn't push her away, he needed her to tell him that he would be ok, that the whole damn world would be ok if they could just get through tonight.

Stella had acted so quickly when she saw Mac hurt that the alarms had been delayed, but were now sirening shrilly in her head. Mac Taylor, your boss, your best friend, guy you have major feelings for…naked. Stella kept her gaze fixed on his chest while she steadied her breathing, he was grieving and the last thing he needed was her being curious. But when his subtle trembling registered, something inside her broke. She slowly shifted out of her top, discarded her shoes and rid herself of her pants. She leaned against him and reached around to turn the faucet. The water slowly warmed, and Stella's black panties and bra became soaked within moments. But it didn't matter. Tomorrow this would affect everything, their job, their friendship, and their lives. But tonight…tonight he needed to be held.

Her jade green eyes met his as he finally succumbed to the tears that would cascade down his cheeks. She held him, pressing herself as close as physics would allow them to be. He trembled in her arms as he let the sobs wrack through him, wrapping his arms around her thin frame, needing to be re-assured that she was there, that he hadn't made mistakes yet that he couldn't fix, that she was alive and ok.

When Stella felt his trembling subside and the tears stop coming full force, she kissed his neck softly, turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. A still hazy Mac followed her. She gently toweled off his chest, her fingers lingering on the small scar that marred the slightly bronzed skin just parallel to his hip, she remembered him telling her about being at summer camp and having his appendix almost burst. She wrapped the towel around his waist, her hand brushing against the tickling hairs than ran from the center of his naval downward. She wrapped herself in another towel, pulling the first aid kit out of the bathroom cabinet. Mac clenched his teeth as she swabbed with antiseptic, Stella was thorough and made sure there were no tile fragments left within the wound before bandaging it.

Mac followed her willingly to the bedroom, but stopped right beside the bed, mirroring her actions.

Stella knew what Mac had shown her tonight would forever affect how they treated each other. But to be honest, she felt the most loved she ever had. Because he had trusted her, he hadn't pushed her away, he had let her in, and godammit it hurt more than anything to see the pain that plagued him, but the joy at knowing it was her and only her in this world that he trusted enough to do so with, made it all she ever dreamed it would be.

She slowly dropped the towel, keeping her gaze diverted away from his. Her hands reached behind her back in a show of flexibility to unhook her bra and let it slide down her arms. Mac said nothing; he knew this was her showing him that they were equal…in everything. He moved back the comforter and slid under the sheets; momentarily adjusting to the sensation of fabric on his naked body…it had been a while since he had a reason to be naked in bed. Stella followed his lead, but turned away from him in bed. Mac placed a soft kiss to the inside of her temple, his left arm draping around her waist and holding her closer.

"Stella, I…" He started to whisper softly.

"Tomorrow Mac."

Yes, tomorrow. Tomorrow they would worry and analyze and fret. But tonight, they would heal, and hold each other. Letting tomorrow come of its own accord.

Please give me thoughts, feedback, etc. Do you think they had sex or just held each other all night. Would you like me to attempt a follow-up chapter? It's all up to you. Just press the green button!